Media-crity

Dear Harvard Vanguard:

Thank you for being so convenient and having every specialty I could ever imagine needing under one umbrella and the technology to truly take advantage of such a system. That I could go in and see one doctor yesterday and within 15 minutes have a spot in general surgery to get taken care of is invaluable. Especially when, instead of nickel and diming me, you just transferred my internal medicine appointment to gen surg.

Thank you for your same-day appointments and, barring that for whatever reason, your urgent care office.

Thank you for having pharmacies in each of your locations. I do like getting my insulin at Walgreens, since my local one is 24 hours and I’m kind of a spaz at not refilling before I run out, but when I have a raging sinus infection and all I want to do is go home and sleep, it’s nice to just stagger downstairs and pick up my 12 prescriptions on my way out the door with hardly any waiting time and not have to make an extra stop. Your pharmacists are also super helpful and knowledgable about good, cost-effective substitutions when my insurance won’t cover whatever superstrength decongestant I was supposed to take.

Thank you for your email system, allowing me to communicate with my doctors how I feel most comfortable and without playing phone tag.

Thank you for your compassionate nurses, like Diane yesterday, who offered to let me squeeze her hands while I was being injected with anaesthetic and scared out of my mind. The same nurse I was able to get on the phone in two minutes when calling, freaked out about my incision, who calmed me down and didn’t sound at all impatient or annoyed with the crazy hypochondriac.

Thank you for giving me a team of kick-ass doctors to ease the pain of having to replace my old team in Hartford. I didn’t think it was possible to ever find anyone approaching Dr. P, Gayle, and Dr. Lassman but you’re really making an effort. They will always be #1 in my heart but you’ve given them a run for their money.

Thank you.

I’ve been meaning to post this for a couple of days now, but I’d forget, or get distracted, or something, and now here we are halfway through the week.

Courant reporter Helen Ubinas is spending a week reporting from Garden St in Hartford. I’ve been following her on Twitter (@NotesfromHeL) for awhile, and I used to read her column religiously back when I actually read The Courant regularly, but this project has been riveting. It’s also really gotten me thinking about something I meant to post back in May or June. It’s late, I’ve just spent 12 hours watching a very frustrating baseball game, and I’m tired, so this will be rambly, but I hope it’ll capture what I’ve been meaning to put down for a couple of months now.

Anyone who has ever spoken to me for any length of time has likely heard me mention, possibly more than once, my great love of Hartford. Those same people also likely debate my mental health behind my back, but that’s neither here nor there. I love Hartford. I miss Hartford. I live in Boston now but I have moments, at least once a week, where I genuinely miss Hartford. I’m not ashamed to say it.

It gets a bum rap a lot of the time (sometimes it’s deserved, yes) and I will defend it to the death. It’s a city with a crooked mayor with way too much power, an unfriendly layout, not much of a downtown to speak of on account of the aforementioned layout (though it’s trying!), and a sobering swath of blight.

But you know what else it has? Really spectacular dining. I can think of only one bad meal out of many I had in Hartford (farewell, No Fish Today), and I’m pretty sure I tried just about all Hartford had to offer at one time or another. I still pine for some sweet potato and rock shrimp fritters or the mac & cheese at Trumbull Kitchen, or the table-made guac at Agave, or the baked berries at Peppercorns. Or pretty much anything imaginable at Wood-N-Tap. (I am purposely, though reluctantly, leaving out Plan B, as that’s in West Hartford and no one really needs to be convinced to hang out in West Hartford).

There’s also a ton of culture. Touring broadway productions? Smaller indie fare? Original productions? You can find it all. How about art? Got it. History? You can’t walk without falling over a historical museum or house.

I’m not delusional. There’s a lot Hartford lacks. A decent music scene is a big one. For more on that, hop on over here to Eric Danton’s blog Sound Check and he’ll be happy to hook you up. Lord knows I’ve railed against it often enough myself. But that’s not why I’m here.

Hartford is also where I met some of my best friends. Where I made some fantastic memories. Where I really grew up and learned how to make it on my own. It’s where I, like the city itself, had soaring triumphs and crushing defeats.

Hartford’s not hip like New York. It’s not reinvented like Providence. It’s not really charming like my beloved Boston. But it’s trying, and it’s community, and it’s heart, and it’s people.

Which is why I’ve been so sucked in to these dispatches from Garden St. They’re sad, they’re scary, but they’re hopeful, too.

They’re Hartford.